


Fire, Fangs and Forever Love

by Diaryofanarcissisticgayman



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aged up 5sos, Alternate Universe - Magic, Dragons, HP!Verse - Freeform, M/M, Michael Clifford & Calum Hood Friendship, Multi, Nobody is good at communication, Polyamory, Tragic Idiots, especially calum, or feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:07:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22928446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diaryofanarcissisticgayman/pseuds/Diaryofanarcissisticgayman
Summary: Calum quits his job as a magical journalist to chase after a dream. Unfortunately, he has no idea what he's doing. Luckily for him, he meets two people who can help him figure it out.
Relationships: Calum Hood/Ashton Irwin, Luke Hemmings/Ashton Irwin, Luke Hemmings/Calum Hood, Luke Hemmings/Calum Hood/Ashton Irwin, Michael Clifford/Calum Hood, past - Relationship
Comments: 5
Kudos: 10





	Fire, Fangs and Forever Love

_“Okay, but like-” Michael says through a mouthful of noodles, which he thankfully slurps up before continuing talking. His hair flashes a bright pink, signaling his satisfaction, but then it fades back into his standard bright blond. “You don’t know anything about magical creatures.”_

_“I don’t know anything about the sex scandal between Grimelda and Nicholas Wolfsbane either, and yet I was forced to write an article alleging that very thing last week.” Calum says flatly, poking at his own noodles with his chopsticks. “Rita said there must be something, since they did a collaboration, and I’m stuck writing four hundred words of dragonshite about them supposedly having an affair.”_

_“There are other papers than the Daily Prophet, Cal.” Michael points out, using his own chopsticks like a finger to point at Calum._

_“Do you think I haven’t been looking?” Calum scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Rita Skeeter changed the whole of the magical journalism landscape. It’s all fucking magical celebrity trash rags now, and the only articles that matter are being written by people who’ve proved themselves in the business. People who get to pick their own articles aren’t the ones who’ve only been in the business for four years. I have to prove myself if I want to write anything that matters.”_

_“That doesn’t mean that you have to go globe-trotting and investigating a bunch of creatures that you don’t know anything about.” Michael argues. “Newt Scamander already did that for us.”_

_“That’s the point.” Calum tells him, a smile stretching his lips. “It’s been over ninety years, and, by all accounts, Scamander wrote ‘Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them’ with the intention of increasing the visibility of magical creatures in the hopes of growing conservation efforts among endangered species. I want to know if it has, or if these creatures have had to adapt to an increased amount of poaching due to Scamander revealing their native habitats and habits.”_

_“But you don’t know a thing about magizoology.” Michael sighs. “You didn’t even take it in school after requirements. You said it was a waste of time. You’ve never spent more time than necessary with any magical creature in your life. You won’t even spend time with Cynthia, and I’ve had her for years.”_

_“You won’t spend time with her either.” Calum points out. “She has to be in a terrarium because she’s a streeler, and she’s massively poisonous.”_

_“That’s beside the point.” Michael says, waving Calum off. “And if someone is going to write a follow up to Newt Scamander’s book, don’t you think it should be Newt Scamander? He’s still kicking around.”_

_“Do you trust any wizard to admit that they made things worse?” Calum says with a roll of his eyes. “Especially one who got famous off of their work? I’ve been working with writers for years, and I can tell you there’s not a bit of accountability in the whole field.”_

_“I’m not going to change your mind, am I?” Michael asks with a sigh, putting his chopsticks down in the bowl and not even noticing when a house elf runs over and takes the bowl, depositing a little cookie in its stead._

_“I’ve already booked a portkey to Australia and turned in my quill to the Prophet.” Calum admits with a soft smile._

_“Why Australia?” Michael asks._

_“What better place to start my journey than my home?” Calum asks with a shrug. “Besides, it’s been ages since I’ve seen my family. I can drop in on them, and then I’m headed to the Blue Mountains.”_

_“Don’t-” Michael says through a gulp as Calum hands off his own bowl to a house elf and takes his cookie. It’s based on a non-magical tradition, these fortune cookies, but the predictions are a bit more accurate. “Don’t tell me that you’re going looking for-”_

_“Dragons.” Calum breathes out, opening up his cookie and reading the fortune._

_‘A great adventure awaits you, but it won’t be what you think.’_

It’s been three weeks since that conversation, and Calum has come up with absolutely nothing. Not one page of a damn book. Not a single sentence. Not a solitary fucking word. He’s not seen anything but birds and mice and goats for the last six days since he got to the mountains. He hasn’t seen anything so magical as even a fucking puffskein, let alone a dragon.

He knows he’s in the right place, because he’d paid a guide to get him to the dragon sanctuary. Unfortunately, he didn’t negotiate prices beforehand, and the little bastard had said it would be fifty galleons to be guided through the range on top of the ten that Calum paid him to get to it.

Needless to say, Calum decided to save his money, and he refuses to think that could be a mistake. He’s not getting ripped off by some bastard who thinks he’s going to die within a week. He found a tracking token in his bag and threw it off his cliff, because he’s mostly positive that the guide planned on just coming to collect whatever he could from Calum’s body after he died horribly.

Fortunately, the only thing killing Calum is boredom. He hasn’t seen so much as a dragon scale or a burning tree to tell him that he’s on the right trail. Something in him keeps pushing him in this direction, but he can’t tell if it’s prescience or stubbornness. His mum always said that he was born lucky under a guiding star that would lead him to what he needed most as long as he trusted in his instincts, but he’s also had his sister and Mikey and one or seven exes tell him that he has a stubborn streak a mile wide that will eventually be the death of him.

It’s hard to tell who’s right.

He has to admit, he’s not the greatest at camping. His tent is obviously magical, bigger on the inside than the house that he was renting back in England, which makes things nice and easy to handle, but climbing is a big part of hiking through these mountains, and, like most wizards, Calum is not exactly an ideal physical specimen suited to climbing. Normally he’d just make himself and his equipment lighter with a spell, but the guide warned him not to use any more magic than absolutely necessary while he’s in the reservation, and his instincts are telling him to listen to that bit of advice.

The part that’s really killing him, besides the aches in his arms and legs, is the fact that he hasn’t used his voice to talk to anything other than the occasional mouse for almost a week. He’s never exactly been the most social person, no matter how much he loves words. He gets through most days without talking to more than five or six people, besides Mikey. He talks more to his pets than actual people, and that’s never really bothered him until there was nobody around at all to talk to for even a moment.

Of course, that loneliness makes him more than a bit stupid, in the long run. It doesn’t help that the first person he comes across in almost a week just happens to be possibly the most beautiful human being that he’s ever seen in his entire life.

His hair is long and curly, messy in a way that says he has trouble taming it. His face is slim and feminine, soft, but sharp at the same time. The bright, tulip pink of his lips makes Calum’s brain go a bit fuzzy, as do the pale lines of his impossibly long neck, dipping into a half-unbuttoned, white silk shirt. His limbs are all willowy and lengthy, probably adding up to a total height that’s even greater than Calum’s. He’s got a softness to him that almost seems to glow in the light of the slowly setting sun, and his profile strikes a stunning silhouette that has Calum’s knees going a bit jelly at the worst possible time.

Calum has always been a sucker and an idiot for a pretty boy in trouble, and trouble is exactly what this pretty boy has found himself in. His ankle is a twisted, broken, bloody mess. The skin is purple and swollen, bulging from the snapped-off bone pressing against it inside. By all reckoning, this boy will be eaten by the predators in the area within a day or two, and yet his face immediately goes defiant when he sees Calum pop his head up over the ridge he’s climbing.

“Who the fuck are you?” the pretty boy asks angrily as Calum hauls himself up onto the ledge. “What are you doing here? This is protected land!”

“Just, um- Hiking?” Calum stammers out, righting himself and trying to pretend that he’s not completely exhausted from climbing the fifteen feet he had to ascend to get up on this summit. He had planned on making this his campsite for the night when he spotted it an hour ago, because night is getting closer and it’s plenty large enough to accommodate him and his tent, but now he has to figure out the blood status of this pretty boy and take care of him accordingly.

He really would not like to have to bust out the real, muggle tent tonight he was so looking forward to a bath and a lie-down in his feather bed.

“You’re not fucking hiking.” the pretty boy says flatly.

“I-” Calum starts, but he’s quickly cut off.

“If you think this leg is going to stop me from skinning a poacher alive, you’re very wrong.” the pretty boy says with his lip pulled back in a snarl. He tries to stand up, and, to his credit, he manages to haul his entire body up, but it leaves him heaving even more than climbing had done to Calum. He can’t put his injured foot down without wincing, but he tries to take a step anyways, and immediately screams and collapses.

Calum barely manages to catch the lad in time, stopping him from bashing his brains out on the rocks at their feet.

He doesn’t struggle, completely limp in Calum’s arms with his eyes closed. That’s good. Calum can cast a healing charm and then leave, in case this lad isn’t magical. He’ll just have to find another campsite for the night, but he can at least help this man before he goes on his way. He’s sure to find another site where he can hunker down before night falls if he keeps following the mountain. This takes priority.

He pulls out his wand and there’s a flash as he murmurs, “Ferula,” tapping the tip of his wand against the blond’s ankle.

“No!” the blond gasps, apparently still awake as he lurches up in Calum’s arms and smacks Calum’s wand out of his hand. “Idiot!”

Calum doesn’t get a chance to ask what his offense was before there’s an ear-piercing scream that echoes up from the valley below, ricocheting off of the slopes until it sounds like a chorus or the high-pitched shriek and the deeper bellow that it turns into as it goes on.

The entirety of the background noise from the mountains and valley, the chirps of birds and the screeches of insects, still into absolute silence as one sound takes their place. It’s a beating, like when Calum used to take a stick and swing it into the carpets his mum hung outside after washing them, so he could help them dry. It’s a roar of thunder as it reaches the cliffs and rebounds, signaling the approach of something Calum just wasn’t ready for, no matter how much he convinced himself to the contrary.

The first thing that Calum thinks when he sees the dragon come soaring up over the edge of the summit that they’re on is that he’s going to die. It’s massive, the muscles under its scales rippling with every motion it makes. His second thought is that it’s absolutely breathtaking, its pearly scales glistening in the sunlight and its pupilless, opalescent eyes almost seem to glow with otherworldly energy when it fixes them on Calum.

He scrambles for his wand as the thing lands, his mind only focused on protecting himself and this lad against a dragon for as long as he can. He knows a fire-freezing charm, the kind that used to protect witches and wizards when they were burned at the stake, but he doesn’t know if that’ll work against a dragon’s fire. It seems unlikely. He’s not very good at apparition magic, so he doesn’t think he’ll be able to get this lad away with him. He can’t just leave the guy behind, but he’s not sure what to do.

He’s heard that a conjunctivitis curse works on dragons, but he’d have to hit the eyes just to make sure that he stands a chance. His talent with spells that cause bewitching sleep is basically none, because that kind of spell always seemed creepy to him. Stunning isn’t an option, because he’s only one wizard and he doesn’t have the skill or speed it would take to use enough spells to actually stun a dragon.

His best option is probably an illusion spell. If he can just cast a strong enough illusion, then he can grab the lad and run while the dragon is distracted. It just has to be the kind that plays on light, rather than perception.

He whirls as he picks up his wand, raising it with the words already on his lips, but they die before they can exit when he sees what’s happening. The pretty boy is on his feet again, storming towards the dragon with that same defiant look he’d given Calum earlier.

“You better stop it right now, mister!” the pretty boy yells, somehow managing to get even more volume than the dragon’s growls. “Behave yourself!”

He nearly shits himself when the dragon turns its eyes from him to the blond, looking back between them three more times before it ducks its head down and butts it against the length of the blond’s body.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

“Always acting so big and bad, aren’t you, Oliver?” the lad hums, rubbing his hands along the dragon’s snout like’s he’s petting it. “Like you’re not the runt or anything.”

“Are you insane?” Calum yells, his wand still firmly clasped at his side.

“Watch the tone.” the blond says flatly, looking back at Calum. “Oliver here is sensitive. He doesn’t like it when people yell. And put your wand away before I snap it in two. If you cast another spell, even I won’t be able to calm him down and stop him from eating you.”

As if to prove his point, the dragon’s eye fixates on Calum again and narrows in what seems to be suspicion. It might just be hunger, though. If this encounter has proved anything, it’s that Calum knows absolutely nothing about dragons at all.

“I think you’re going to come with me.” the blond says, standing at his full height and fixing Calum with a glare, the dragon under his hand growling at Calum like he knows he’s a perfect threat.

Not that Calum would have argued with the lad who just yelled a dragon into submission.

“Fuck you, you fucking sociopath!” Calum yells when he finally manages to get a word to come out of his mouth instead of vomit.

The pretty lad had ridden on the back of the dragon, but Calum hadn’t gotten that luxury. No- He was carried in the fucking thing’s claws, never more than a single flex away from falling to his death. His wand was held hostage, so he couldn’t have even saved himself if he’d managed to get free.

He’d been dropped unceremoniously on his ass from ten feet in the air, on a little patch of grass outside of a cottage, and he’s been throwing up for the past five minutes ever since.

“Shut up, poacher.” the blond says, putting his boot on Calum’s back and then pushing him down into the ground. “We’ve got some questions for you.”

“We?” Calum asks through a groan, trying to regain his breathing even though his chest is being compressed. “Poacher?”

“Take this.” another voice says, one that Calum doesn’t know, as a tanned hand reaches into his vision with a vial of clear liquid. “You can do this the easy way, or I can pry your mouth open and pour it down. I don’t recommend that way. It takes too much explaining when I hand your kind over to the ministry, why you’re all covered in bruises. Don’t think I won’t, though.”

“Veritaserum?” Calum asks, looking at the phial.

“I brew it myself just for you people.” the gruff voice says, pressing the potion into Calum’s hand when he opens it. “I don’t like violence of any kind, but I’ll do what I have to in order to protect my friends. However, if I can, I’ll take any path to avoid that.”

Calum has a distinct feeling that it’s in his best interests to listen to what he’s being told to do. He’s not a poacher, so he should be fine.

Right?

He downs the potion, and the booted foot on his back removes itself. At least he can breathe properly now as he rolls over onto his back.

He gets a good eyeful of the newcomer, a broad guy who’s got no shirt and an axe rested on his shoulder. His musculature isn’t overly defined, but it’s still incredibly obvious. His arms bulge and his hands are calloused with what looks like years of hard work. His jaw is set like iron, but his eyes belie a softness that his exterior doesn’t show at all. A mess of floppy, brown hair drops into his eye, and he brushes it aside with the blade of the axe, which has Calum practically salivating.

“Fuck, you’re hot too.” Calum breathes out, his brown cheeks going a bit pink as the words tumble out. “Fuck, I hate this stuff.”

“Well, I’d say that it worked.” the pretty boy snorts, standing next to the muscular one.

“Why are you here?” Muscles asks, looking down at Calum.

“He bloody kidnapped me with a dragon!” Calum blathers out, pointing accusingly at the blond. “All I did was fix his broken ankle, and he teamed up with the dragon to take me hostage. Some fucking ‘thank you’, by the way, Pretty Boy.”

“I meant why are you in this dragon sanctuary.” Muscles says with a huff.

“I want to write a book about magical creatures.” Calum answers immediately. “Not that I’m very good at it, apparently. I didn’t even know how to counter the dragon, which probably would have gotten me killed if the pretty one hadn’t yelled at it. I’ve got to, though. I have to do something worthwhile or else I’m going to spend my entire career writing trashy celebrity gossip news for Rita Skeeter. I don’t care about bloody sex scandals! I care about exposing anti-muggle bias in the ministry and the corruption involved in the debt that the ministry owes to MACUSA! I want to write something that bloody well matters, even if that’s just me calling out people like Newt Scamander and Albus Dumbledore for actually hurting the cause of conservationism by exposing magical creatures to heightened levels of poaching!”

“Oh god.” the pretty one sighs.

“If you don’t know Newt, then you should probably shut up about him.” the muscular one growls, crouching down so that his eyes are level with Calum’s, tucking the axe under Calum’s chin and lifting it up so that he can’t look away. “But I’m not a fan of Albus Dumbledore either, so I’ll let you slide this once.”

“Why aren’t you a fan?” Calum asks, narrowing his eyes. He has his own reasons for not caring for Dumbledore, but they rarely match those of the people around him who would admit to the same. They’re mostly bigots, hateful of non-magicals.

“Because people hunt my friends for oven cleaner now.” Muscles says with a snarl. “Albus Dumbledore is the worst thing to happen to dragons since wizards discovered that their hides can make them fireproof. His essay on the twelve uses of dragon’s blood made people decide to hunt them again, after centuries of leaving them be because they’re so dangerous.”

“Alright, then.” Calum nods. “That’s good.”

“I’m no Death Eater, or the like, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Muscles tells him. “Blood status is irrelevant to someone like me. All I care about is protecting my friends here in the sanctuary.”

“How many of you are there?” Calum asks, looking between Muscles and Pretty Boy.

“Two of us, twenty-three of him.” Muscles answers, pointing over his shoulder at where the dragon is picking at a sheep carcass, ignoring the conversation going on. “That’s more than enough to handle any sized group of poachers, though.”

“I’m not a bloody poacher.” Calum huffs. “What kind of poacher would come into a dragon sanctuary alone or fix Pretty Boy’s ankle?”

“What kind of writer has a tent worth a few thousand galleons?” Pretty Boy asks back, pointing at Calum’s pack.

“The kind that’s planning to spend the next few years investigating magical creatures, so he’d be spending a ton of time outside in remote areas.” Calum argues.

“Enough, Lu.” Muscles says, putting his hand on pretty boy’s shoulder. “He’s telling the truth. He’s not a poacher, and he doesn’t know how to escape from a dragon, let alone harm one.”

“He could be using occlumency.” Pretty boy huffs.

“He’s not.” Muscles says firmly. “He’s not lying.”

The words are firmer this time, striking a deeper chord that makes even Calum want to obey anything he says as long as he uses that tone.

“Oh, thank goodness.” Pretty boy says with a beaming smile, offering his hand to Calum. “I hate it when we have to hurt people. I’m Luke. What’s your name?”

“I- Calum.” he answers as he’s hauled up onto his feet.

“Ashton.” Muscles tells him, patting at Calum’s back. “Feel free to set up camp out here tonight. Just watch out. It’s a new moon, so it’ll be impossible to see anything out here at night.”

“We’re having lamb for dinner.” Luke hums. “Would you like to join us?”

Calum takes one look at the dragon, its snout red and glistening with blood, and tuns green, shaking his head.

Calum wakes up to a chorus of tiny squeaks outside of his tent, the fabric doing nothing to block the noises. Irish linen, as it turns out, is no match for a dragon, whether it’s enchanted or not. It’s supposed to be fireproof, but Calum hopes that he doesn’t have to test that. It occurs to him that he probably should have done that before he headed out to research dragons, but it’s too late now.

Thinking things through has never been Calum’s specialty. He tends to follow his gut in most situations. It’s not that he’s not smart, or that he can’t see the value in thinking about consequences. It’s just that he tends to do better in his life when he doesn’t let his brain go wild thinking things through. His anxiety gets the better of him more often than not when he thinks too much.

That’s how things went south with Mikey, back when they were a bit more than best friends, but Calum wasn’t sure if they were boyfriends. Turned out that Mikey thought they were, and Calum’s hesitation in putting a label on things ended that. He’s never been mad about anything in that situation except his brain getting the better of him. Ever since then, he’s done what his instincts tell him and that has rarely steered him wrong, even if it appears to have done so before he figures things out fully.

So that’s why, even though he’s ravenous and wants to take a bath, he shrugs on a shirt and some trousers, and walks out of his tent. His instincts are telling him to follow the noise, to see what’s happening outside, so he’s going to listen. Even though it’s leading him straight to the two guys who kidnapped him with a dragon and threatened to have him thrown in prison for something he never did.

It feels so stupid to even still be here, rather than putting some distance between himself and this cottage in the middle of the night, let alone to actively interact with these two, but that’s exactly what Calum feels like he should do.

“You’re a late sleeper.” Ashton hums, nodding at Calum when he emerges from the tent. The sun has barely peaked above the mountains, still coloring the sky pink.

“It’s like- six in the morning.” Calum grunts out with his throat still full of gravel, looking down at his watch.

“Never seen a wizard use a wristwatch before.” Ashton says, holding a small, white lizard out to Calum. “Make yourself useful and feed her. She keeps eating all her brothers’ food.”

“I- What?” Calum questions, looking at the lizard. It takes him far too long to realize that the lizard is, in fact, a baby dragon. The wings seem to prove it.

“I need you to feed her separately from the rest.” Ashton says slowly this time, like he thinks that Calum has gone stupid. “She’s bigger than them, so she steals their food.”

“I don’t know how to feed a dragon.” Calum tells him flatly, even though he holds out his hands and lets her be transferred into them.

She’s heavier than he thought she would be, given her size, but she’s still only a few pounds. She fixes him with one pupilless eye, blinking slowly with three eyelids, but she must decide he’s not a threat, because she doesn’t squirm or bite him or set him on fire.

“She’ll do the hard work.” Ashton explains, sitting a little tub of meat in front of Calum and pulling back the other three babies, who all rush after it. “Just set her down a bit away, and put down the chunks of meat in front of her one at a time. She’ll take care of the rest.”

Calum sits down like Ashton is doing, on the other side of the tub, and sets her in front of him with one hand while the other grabs a chunk of the raw meat and drops it in front of her face. It should be obvious, what’s coming next, but Calum still lets out a shriek of surprise when the little dragon lets out a jet of flame and starts roasting the meat.

“I told you to put her a bit away.” Ashton grunts out, grabbing Calum by the back of his shirt and dragging him backwards a few inches to get him out of range of the flame. “You’re not wearing dragonskin clothing, so you’re too close.”

“You wear dragonskin?” Calum asks, looking back at Ashton while the baby dragon tears into her meal. “Isn’t that, like- Not very dragon friendly?”

“I make my own dragonskin clothes out of the remnants after the babies shed.” Ashton tells him with a roll of his eyes. “That’s why it doesn’t look like I’m wearing it. The molted skin is less scaly, so it’s easier to merge it with plain fabrics. No dragons are ever hurt by my clothing, and none ever will be, but I’d be an idiot to work with dragons and not wear fireproof clothing.”

“Dragons molt?” Calum questions, dropping another chunk of meat in front of his baby before she can get to the tub like she’s trying to do.

“Do you know literally anything about dragons?” Ashton asks with a sigh.

“I know they are big, breathe fire, and several species of them are critically endangered.” Calum huffs.

“Dragons are similar to reptiles in a lot of ways.” Ashton explains, sprinkling chunks of meat down for his babies. “I mean- They’re hot blooded, which is different, and they get much bigger than any species of reptile, and obviously they’re magical, but they have a lot of the same qualities as reptiles. They molt their skin as they grow. They have a nictitating membrane, which is that extra eyelid. They do have hard shelled eggs, like birds, but inside of the hard shell is another leathery egg like a lizard’s or a snake’s eggs. They also see like reptiles, because they have four types of color receptors, which makes their vision better than a human’s.”

“You take a very- Muggle approach to research.” Calum says after a few moments.

“Muggles may not have magic, but that’s just led them to being much more thorough about their research.” Ashton mutters. “Magic makes people lazy. They get entrenched in these ideas, and stick with them forever. That’s why magical society hasn’t evolved in centuries, while the muggles keep advancing and advancing. That’s why there’s so much horrible bias based on blood, because witches and wizards are still living in the days of Merlin. That’s how people like Voldemort and Grindelwald keep managing to gain traction. Nobody is going to change if they can keep getting away with self-furthering bigotry.”

He may have helped kidnap and threaten Calum, but his instincts were right after all. Ashton is definitely someone that Calum can get along with.

“I won’t save you again if you do that.” says a voice as Calum pulls out his wand to remove the bloody stains in the hems of his sleeves after feeding the dragons their breakfast. “They’ll only listen to me so much if they think they’re being attacked.”

“What?” Calum asks, turning to see Luke staring at him from the doorway, arms crossed over his chest and one long, unruly blond curl hanging down over his eye, having escaped the way he’s pulled the rest of his hair back. God, he’s pretty. “What are you talking about?”

“Antipodean Opaleyes can smell magic made from wands.” Luke tells him, like it’s just fucking common knowledge. Although- Maybe it is. “It’s a defense that they’ve developed after centuries of being hunted. In particular, they can suss out magic from a wand made with a dragon’s heartstring core. They’re the second biggest source of them in the world, right after the Common Welsh Green. They don’t like it, and they’ll kill people who cast magic with a wand for it. Given how strongly Oliver reacted to you yesterday, I’m going to take a wild guess that you have a dragon heart string wand?”

“Uh- Yeah.” Calum admits sheepishly.

“Then you’re better off using magic without a wand.” Luke says with a shrug.

“Do I look like bloody Merlin to you?” Calum asks with a scoff, pocketing his wand.

“I don’t think you could pull off a beard like that.” Luke snorts. “And I like that you prefer muggle fashion over wizard fashion. Robes are so fifteenth century. Merlin shouldn’t be your goal.”

“I don’t know of too many other wizards who could cast magic without a wand besides him.” Calum huffs.

“You fed dragons with one this morning.” Luke hums.

“I- What?” Calum questions.

“Ashton can use magic without a wand.” Luke tells him. “You should ask him for lessons.”

“I don’t think I’ll be around here long enough for him to teach me anything that complicated.” Calum mumbles, looking down at his sleeves. He’s just going to have to do everything the old-fashioned way while he’s in the reserve. “I’m not intending to overstay my welcome. I’ve made and eaten my breakfast, and I’ve had my bath, so I’ll be on my way after I wash the blood out of my clothes.”

“Well, before you go, write down your family’s address for me.” Luke says, reaching inside of the house and producing a roll of paper and a quill. “And any last words you have for them, so I can send them with the rest of your belongings when you end up eaten.”

“You’re hilarious.” Calum says flatly.

“I’m serious.” Luke tells him, dropping the paper and quill at Calum’s feet and turning back into the cottage, closing the door behind him.

Well- That was vaguely off-putting.

Calum did manage to glean a few things from Ashton in the morning about the Antipodean Opaleyes. For one thing, he learned why he was having so much trouble finding them in the mountains. Antipodean Opaleyes prefer valleys, not mountains, when they’re making their homes. He’s been about a mile above their habitat this whole time.

Calum, for one, is grateful to the entire species. His arms are too skinny. Making his way into the valley and through it is much, much easier than climbing the mountains. It’s almost pleasant, despite the anxiety coursing through him that he might just get eaten at any moment.

He’s not entirely sure that he’s washed the scents of the babies off enough to not piss off their mother, if he ends up coming across her, but he could only do so much without magic. Even as used to doing things the muggle way as Calum is, he still has no idea how to get the distinct smell of baby dragon out of his clothes with just soap and water. He left the clothes in the multi-space of the tent, but he can still smell it a bit.

It's like rotting meat and strawberries, and the longer he goes, the more he can smell it. It’s actually getting to the point that it’s itching at his nose, starting to block out everything else. He doesn’t really understand how it can have been hours since he left, and yet it’s somehow growing stronger. At least- He doesn’t understand it until he hears a loud squeak.

He looks down, his boot halfway through a step, and sees a baby dragon, squawking and snapping at him. It’s smaller than any of the ones that Calum had seen this morning, only a few inches long. It can’t be much older than a few days, which makes Calum wonder why it’s alone.

That question is answered very quickly with a roar that shakes Calum down to his very bones. A dragon at least three times as big as the one that had carried him in its claw yesterday comes rushing down over the top of the mountain in front of him. It’s got flames licking out of its jaws, all the pointy bits aimed straight at Calum, and there’s not a single fucking thing he can do because his legs are officially gelatin.

He’s going to die, and Luke and Mikey and the guide were all going to be fucking right. That almost makes him madder than dying.

Almost.

Something catches him around the middle and manages to send both him and the body colliding with him to the ground just out of the way of the dragon’s attack.

“Stay down, you fucking idiot.” Ashton grunts out from on top of him. “You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“Uh- Ouch?” Calum manages to push past his clenched teeth.

“Shut up.” Ashton huffs, pushing himself up to his feet and turning on where the dragon has landed and is stalking towards them. “Enough, Ophelia! He’s not a threat, he’s an idiot!”

“Hey!” Calum whines. He’s not sure why he’s deciding to take offense when there seems to be every chance that they’ll be dead in a matter of seconds.

The dragon gets closer to Ashton and growls, a rumble deep in its throat that shakes the ground underneath them both. He doesn’t seem to have the same power over this one that Luke did over the other one. Maybe he’s not as good with them, or maybe this one won’t listen because Calum has pissed it off too much, or maybe it’s just too big to be controlled by some measly human-sized pest. Whatever the reason, Ashton doesn’t seem to be enough to get the job done, so, at the very least, Calum is going to die here, and being affronted and annoyed feels like a very weird combination of emotions to waste his last few precious seconds on.

Ashton, though- He’s clearly feeling something else. His lip curls up in a snarl and he growls right back at the dragon. There’s a strange scent that fills the clearing, like wet dogs and rotting meat and ashes and char, but it pales in comparison to the strange aura that overtakes the glade.

It’s like two equal powers meeting in combat, the air going electric with the fury coursing between them. It doesn’t make any sense, but there’s something in Ashton’s eyes that gleam in the light. He knows he’s going to come out on top in this encounter. There’s too much pride in his gaze to say otherwise.

“I said enough!” Ashton roars, his face fierce in the face of imminent death. “I’ll take him and go!”

The dragon growls again, but it’s shorter this time- Clipped and curious, the way it trails off into something that Calum would almost call a whine, if he thought dragons were capable of that sort of thing.

“Don’t you give me that tone, missy.” Ashton tells her, waving a finger in her face. “He’s under my protection. I promise, he’s no threat to the babies. He’s just a dumbass, wandering around where he has no place being, with his complete lack of knowledge. He’s sorry.”

Does he have to be so fucking rude?

“Are you fucking stupid, or something?” Ashton asks, looking back at Calum with a glare, as if he can read Calum’s mind. “Bow your fucking head to her. You invaded her territory. You need to appease her.”

Calum isn’t proud of how quickly he scrambles to follow the instruction, flopping onto his stomach and curling up so that he looks like he’s praying, his head down between his shoulders and arms stretched out in front of him.

The ground shakes, rumbles to the point where Calum knows he would have lost his footing if he was still on his feet. The slide of scales on grass is a loud hiss, deafening him to the muted sounds of Ashton talking. Whatever advice he has to give, Calum can’t receive it, because his heart is pounding too loud and the dragon is moving closer, and Calum is going to fucking die while begging for his life from a dragon.

He can’t even hear the sounds of his own whimpering, but he can feel his lips moving as something absolutely massive pushes against him. It feels like a boulder smacking into him, easily rolling him onto his side and then pressing him down into the earth with a sharp inhale of breath that steals all of the air out of Calum’s lungs.

“Sorry!” Calum squeaks out. It’s not the most impressive set of last words, but this could be worse. He could be sobbing, or shitting his pants. He’s at least got a little bit of dignity left, even if this is how he goes out, after everyone told him so.

The dragon sniffs at him more, deep inhales that cause Calum’s shirt to stick to its nostrils, and then it flicks its tongue out and licks along the length of his stomach to his face like an absolutely massive dog. It turns back to Ashton and huffs, nudging Calum with a single claw before butting its face against Ashton.

“Don’t you try to act all sweet with me.” Ashton says with a laugh, smacking the side of the dragon’s face with one hand while the other strokes heavily between her eyes. “You don’t growl at me like that. I don’t care what’s happening. When I say no, that means no.”

The dragon groans, shutting her eyes and nudging him again.

“It doesn’t matter if I use the actual word ‘no’ or not.” Ashton snorts. “Arguing semantics is not helping your case.”

Is he fucking having a conversation with this dragon? Like a whole bloody conversation on both sides? Can he actually understand this dragon? Calum isn’t entirely surprised that it can understand him, because even he knows that dragons are exceptionally intelligent creatures, rivalling, or even surpassing humans. But for a human to be able to understand a dragon- That’s not something Calum has ever heard of before.

The dragon lets out a huff of hot air that blows the grass around them like a heavy wind, and Ashton replies, “No. Trust me, he’s not in any shape to be a threat to you or the babies. He helped me feed one of Cleo’s babies this morning. He’s got a decent heart to make up for the empty space between his ears.”

Honestly, if it wouldn’t get him eaten, and if Ashton wasn’t the reason he’s still breathing, he’d transfigure Ashton into a slug right now.

“Think you can give us a ride back to the cottage?” Ashton asks the dragon. The dragon looks between Ashton and Calum, then snorts out what almost sounds like a hooting laugh, and begins to slither back towards the nest.

“Oh, come on!” Ashton whines. “I had to track this idiot all day, and now I have to walk back?”

The dragon takes no pity on either of them, curling up in a circle around the nest and setting the now pretty badly mashed up sheep carcass in her back foot in the center. Calum is pretty sure that they’re not getting a ride.

“Sit down.” Ashton grunts out, pushing Calum into a chair inside the cabin. It’s the first time he’s spoken since they left the nest and he told Calum to get a move on, but with a lot of swearing and insults. He honestly didn’t need to push Calum, because he’s fucking exhausted and is glad for the break that Ashton wouldn’t let him take on the walk back.

Ashton seems to have no such problem with exhaustion, bustling around the kitchen and doing eight different things all at the same time. He’s making tea and pulling out a roast and chopping vegetables, and Calum is tired just watching him. He idly wonders where Luke has gotten off to, but he’s a bit more concerned with the burly one that’s mad at him. He’s still not sure why Ashton followed him, or why he risked his life to save Calum, or why he brought Calum back to the relative safety of the cabin.

He barely understands an ounce of what’s happened to him since he woke up this morning, honestly. He’s fed dragons, been grumbled at by a twink who can’t seem to decide if he wants to be delightful or a bitch, hiked a good twenty or thirty miles, been attacked by a dragon, and possibly he’s been kidnapped again by one of the same people who kidnapped him yesterday.

It’s been an adventure over the last twenty-four hours, for sure.

“You have an extraordinary capacity for making terrible choices.” Ashton finally says after ten or so minutes have passed. He’s loaded the roast and vegetables into the oven, and poured a couple of cups of tea that he sits between them as he takes the seat opposite from Calum. “How do you take it?”

“Black is fine.” Calum mumbles, bringing the cup towards himself.

“So-” Ashton hums. “Do you want to tell me what exactly your plan was out there?”

“I was looking to find one of them out in the wild.” Calum tells him. “I didn’t mean to stumble into a nest.”

“Well, then you should probably know literally anything about dragons before you go out looking for them.” Ashton tells him. “Luke was fine with letting you wander off on your own. He said he had an address to send your things to, if we stumbled across them after you died. Personally, I’d rather avoid that whole scenario. Brings bad attention to dragons.”

“Are you telling me that I have to leave?” Calum asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m not an idiot.” Ashton says with a roll of his eyes. “The only way I could successfully kick you out of the reserve is to have you thrown in prison, and that seems like a bit much. Anything else, though- You’ll just come back. I’ve talked to you twice, and that’s more than enough to know that you’re stubborn and determined when it comes to this.”

“Why do I feel like this conversation is going to end with you killing me?” Calum asks, narrowing his eyes.

“I wouldn’t have bothered saving your life if I was just going to kill you.” Ashton says with yet another roll of his eyes. “All I would have had to do is say that you were a poacher who got what they deserved. It wouldn’t have been good, but it also wouldn’t have ended in any sort of punishment for me or the dragons. Murdering you myself creates a lot more problems.”

“I’m sure you could make it look like an accident.” Calum says, narrowing his eyes. “Lots of cliffs around here that you could throw my body off of. Say that I fell because I was unprepared and inexperienced in mountaineering.”

“I’m not going to kill you.” Ashton huffs, pulling in on himself. “That’s such fucking prej- Whatever. I’m not going to kill you.”

Something about the interaction catches Calum’s mind in a weird way, but it’s not that it’s a lie. Ashton really doesn’t want to kill him, unless he’s very good at hiding it.

“I want you to stay here until you’re either prepared enough to go out there, or smart enough to just leave on your own and realize how insane it is that you’ve decided to do this.” Ashton mutters, shaking his head. “I’ll teach you how to use wandless magic, and about dragons.”

“Why?” Calum questions, still more than a bit suspicious.

“Well, I’m not doing it for free.” Ashton tells him, a smirk replacing the downward turn of his mouth. “You’re going to help around here with the dragons. And you’ll be cooking one meal a day for the three of us, as well as doing the washing up for another. Your laundry is your own to take care of, you don’t get paid for anything you do here, and you clean up after yourself whenever you make a mess.”

Honestly, it seems like a good deal. Trial and error may not be the way to handle learning about dragons. They don’t really leave a lot of room for error.

“Don’t you need to talk to Luke about this sort of thing?” Calum asks after a few moments.

“I already did.” Ashton tells him. “Last night. If you hadn’t left before lunch, then you’d have already had this offer hours ago, and you wouldn’t have been attacked by a dragon. Again. Luke even tried to tell you about it, but you decided to run off on your own with no clue what you’re doing. Again.”

“I get it.” Calum huffs. “You think I’m a complete idiot. You said it enough times to the dragon. You don’t have to keep rubbing it in.”

“I had to say it to Ophelia.” Ashton snorts. “She’s- Prideful. You have to flatter her, and make her feel superior. She’s been the colony queen for a long time now, and she’s let it get to her head a bit. If you’re not someone she respects, then she’ll show no mercy unless she thinks you’re basically just a big child. I didn’t have time to convince her otherwise. We’ll work on it in the future. It’ll take a bit of time and effort, and you’ll have to start with the babies and juveniles before you can even hope to start with the adults, but we’ll get you there so I don’t have to worry about you getting eaten and bringing down an inquisition on this place. The red tape and audits make things really difficult.”

“So- Just to be clear-” Calum says, drawing out the words with a sigh. “The only reason you’re helping me or keeping me alive is because you don’t want to deal with bureaucrats?”

“I mean- Getting an assistant is a plus, too.” Ashton hums. “I’ve been trying to get our patron to send us one for a while, but he can’t find anyone willing to take the job. Dragonology isn’t a popular field. Luke and I are the youngest professionals in the field by a couple of decades, and it’s hard to even find what the muggles would call ‘an intern.’”

There’s so many questions scrabbling at the boards in Calum’s mind, so many little word choices and behaviors that Ashton has done that make his journalistic side rabid with curiosity, but he’s been offered a mercy, so he’ll wait to ask them. He’ll stretch it out over time, since it’s apparent that he’s going to spend plenty of it here. He’s learned his lesson after the second time.

He needs help in this place.


End file.
